Poem #3, 5d, RedStar
Speak to me with your eyes,
the love you have inside.
Touch me without words.
Hold me without arms.
So I can feel the you that is beyond form.
Share with me your essence.
Radiate your light.
Burn bright.
Bop the weight – hour 3, prompt 3
How do I get rid of weight?
I shovel food, and stay up late
binge watch my favorite sitcom
don’t bug me if my game is on
and then I sleep till noon, not fun
pretty soon the day is gone.
My middle, see
is haunting me, probably till eternity
battling the bulge is hard
every pint adds to my lard
sitting mostly with TV
cellulite is after me
even when my thighs are thinning
it’s crunch time and I’m not winning.
Solution, difficult but true
flour and sweets I should not do
if tummy trimming, get off the couch
go exercise, get outta the house!
and sleep, I must get regularly
then flatter tummy will I see.
– Sandra Johnson
The Jar (Brandy Goodman Poems #3)
The Jar
Bottled up within me
Deep down in my core
Lies a jar that’s over flowing
With something I don’t want anymore.
I want to take that bottle
And smash it to the ground,
Ridding myself of its contents,
Before it causes me to drown.
But the bottle just refuses
To come into the light,
It doesn’t want to be scrutinized,
So it stays hidden from my sight.
So I sit partially submerged,
Because the jar refuses to budge.
The jar has taken over my life,
Because I held a grudge.
School Dance The Bop // Hour Three Half Marathon
I prepared for the school dance the dress pressed a boudinair for his lapel dancing to songs in advance all the dreams of youth bursting forward and coming soon. Twirling and swirling, over and again. Yet Dad grew sick early that morning. A fever first caught our attention. His quiet mornings had been clues as he cradled his aching head in folded arms. These were the days before the actual tumor was first detected, the pain present but the malady silent and lurking. To the hospital we went and waited. Twirling and swirling, over and again. We sat next to him, playing the television, laughing nervously, and watching for doctors. A rerun of Lawrence Welk began, and so did memories. My sisters and I danced to long-forgotten songs floating like flowers in lapels at school dances Dad our handsome beau, slowly smiling then gently singing. Twirling and swirling, over and again.
Hour 3: Raindrop Rendezvous (Form: Monchielle)
Drizzling crystal raindrop
Born out of a nimbus
Races its way nearing
an unforeseen journey,
leaves a thunder striking.
Drizzling crystal raindrop
leaps into the tall trees,
spraying fresh morning kiss
and shrouded fog reveals
whispering woods in bliss.
Drizzling crystal raindrop
drips over a green leaf
swiped by a butterfly,
forms lens on a petal,
reflects the high blue sky.
Drizzling crystal raindrop
scrambles along the roof
glides through the window pane
splashes into ripples
As I walk down the street.
Into an Abyss (Poem 2)
Into an abyss, I fall
Red and black shadow my mind
For sanity has departed
Senses of realism turns horrid
I shake, I stir
I moan, I tremble
In a forgotten realm
Blood pounding in my veins
Urging to kill, feed, and bathe
With eternal flames of ice
Damnation to concede
Sinful desires of need
Ripping flesh, sounds of pain
Pain, feeling of dread
Dread, emotion of death
Death, certainty of the end
Only to begin, again
Into an abyss, I fall
Legacy
Legacy
“Give me a metaphor for the moment.” Harriet Slaughter
Remember me in metaphors, not in everyday cliches.
Remember my written words
how I spilt my heart across the page.
Remember me for my good deeds,
the ways I intended the world to be.
Remember me inside the scents of roses and of daisies.
Remember me in the touch of rain on your cheeks,
inside the sincerity of ballads on the radio.
Remember me in the sweetest taste of raspberries.
Remember me like a song, one you repeat over and over
never grow tired of its entirety.
My legacy will continue on as you move on.
I’ll be the bittersweet side inside your history.
Margarette Wahl
3. Is this too meta?
Poetry is a thing with rules.
More guidelines than actual rules
rhyme this, rhythm that,
make sure it has some kind of flow,
goddammit, if it doesn’t you’re a hack
and you can’t follow the simple rules.
tell me tell me tell me
Tell me this, then, oh Grand Poet Wizard
if I must adhere to your rules, can my lines
be
so
short?
Is
this
cheating?
tell me tell me tell me
Or will you say “get out?” I must instead
practice law, medicine, science, or some other more noble endeavour. That is where the money is don’t you know?
“I have a friend on wall street,” “my father works for a firm you see,” “What makes you the proper candidate for such a noble endeavor?” I’d say my inability to march in a straight line.
tell me tell me tell me
Run(hour 1) by Mrs. J
Has anyone ever paid attention to how Forest Gump run?
One may say in the beginning he was trained to run out of fear to to protect himself and stay out of trouble
Another may say but by time he got older he ran with perseverance
In the end many may say everything he did in running paid off in double
I say he ran in faith
he never knew what the end results was going to be
But he always built up that confidence to run prior to what he could see
I never once had a dream to run like he did
But my challenges started like him as a kid
I use to run for fun
But then one day I went from being able to move freely to a wheelchair quickly learning how to walk all over again
that seemed to slow me down
Not knowing that I already had someone training me too
A friend.. I found out His name is Jesus who wears the crown
To help me be the influential woman I know personally
Through faith
I run with confidence and perseverance with fear at times I face
But through it all His power and glory I still can embrace
All the running which will help me leave my troubles behind
So I can be one of the walking, talking encouraging, influential woman of human kind
Hour 2. 10:23 AM
CJ,
I will miss the taste
of your grape sugar and
the soft touch of your fingers
brushing over my skin
to adjust the camera
as the middle-aged uber driver
watches us vlogging “NY with Claire”
with a frown on his face
in the rearview mirror
while the city blurs
into a van Gogh painting
outside of the window and
the starry, starry night
falls upon higher grounds
which eventually will lay the stars
at our feet and we will be bigger
than the entire state of New York
to the point where
when you reach for my hand
the streets will hold their ground
against a northerly wind
but before soon you will be gone and
the likely chances that we will meet again
will be a million to one and until then
I will wait until I can steal your gum again and
draw inside the wrapper
a little doodle of the two of us
but then I will scrunch it up and
throw it out behind your back
because it reminds me too much
of a love I once had
because I want to have
a unique space in my heart for you and
not for you to fill the unique space
that someone else once left behind
so I will hold tight to the polaroid
until the day fate brings up the idea
that we should meet again
under the lights of the Empire State
or the stairs in front of the Met
and if we met again today
I would have taken you out
on a proper date
even though you probably would have
preferred to drag me to
your brother’s friend’s sister’s gallery
and suggest that we
make out in the bathroom
and I would have had to politely decline
because my lips would be chapped
from the cold
but however, I would gladly
take up the offer to hang out with you
and occasionally share some kisses
even though that would leave my lips
swollen when we leave
but how fun it would be
to explore the streets of New York
with you again.
Plus, I owe you one pack of fruit gum,
six hugs, and exactly one proper date.
All Love,
SL